


Hell on Earth

by madasthesea



Series: Nice work, kid [7]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: But the whole fic is about him, Clint Barton Needs a Hug, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Peter only shows up in Baby-Monitor videos, Post-Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), Team Dad, Tony Stark Needs a Hug
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-12
Updated: 2018-09-12
Packaged: 2019-07-11 09:22:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15969431
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/madasthesea/pseuds/madasthesea
Summary: Prompt: please do post!IW where everyone lost someone in the snap, but on paper it looks like Tony didn't lose anyone (Rhodey is alive, I'm pretty sure Pepper and Happy are too), so Hawkeye or someone is pissed until they see Tony and realize he's lost just as much as them





	Hell on Earth

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt from Olivia-Ivy on tumblr

 

Having the Avengers back together was… strange. They’d all changed so much, were all so scarred from the aftermath of the Snap. Even though they seemed to work together well as a team, living together was another thing entirely. Tempers got the better of people, and the long, sleepless nights most of them endured weren’t helping.

And Tony was utterly apathetic. He didn’t care about the frequent squabbles, the tensions running high between training and mealtimes. He didn’t care about anything. Anything except reversing the Snap and getting Peter back.

If he thought keeping his head down would keep him out of trouble, he was wrong.

Clint was looking for a fight. Tony couldn’t really blame him; he knew what guilt did to people. Didn’t mean he was ready for it.

Rhodey had taken it upon himself to make sure Tony ate. Some days, when Tony’s work was going well, all he needed to do was shout at Tony that lunch was ready. On bad days, he would make up a plate and slide in front of Tony, not letting him leave the table until it he’d eaten it.

It was a really bad day.

Rhodey set a full plate in front of Tony. Tony looked at it blankly, feeling sick to his stomach. He pushed it away and stood, grabbing a water bottle and filling up his coffee cup.

“Tony,” Rhodey sighed. “You need to eat.”

“Leave me alone,” Tony snapped. He immediately felt bad–Rhodey was just trying to take care of him. He paused in the doorway.

Clint scoffed. He’d been loitering by the coffee machine, brooding with his jaw set.

Clint had lost everyone in the Snap. When he wasn’t fighting, he was utterly silent. He stuck close by Natasha, but never voluntarily spent time with anyone else.

Tony turned to him, his face flushing and his heart beating hard.

“Something to say?” he asked, raising an eyebrow. Rhodes was looking between the two, unsure if he should intervene.

“Yeah, actually,” Clint said, pushing away from the counter. “What right do you have to be in mourning? To be moping around and hiding in your lab? Huh? The world didn’t end for you.”

“Clint,” Rhodes warned.

“No!” Clint snapped. “He didn’t lose  _anyone_! We all lost someone, but not Tony freaking Stark. He comes out of it untouched, just like always. He doesn’t know what it’s like to watch the people you love turn to dust.”

_He didn’t lose anyone_.

Peter, scrabbling at Tony’s chest. Peter, begging Tony to save him. Peter, a sixteen-year-old kid in way over his head, dying on an alien planet, his ash coating Tony’s hands.

Tony took a staggering step backward.

“I do know,” he whispered.

Clint advanced, shoving Rhodey’s restraining hand off his chest.

“You have  _no idea_ , Stark. I held my son while he died. I lost  _everything_. You’ll never know what that’s like,” Clint hissed, his eyes blazing.

Tony backed away.  _I held my son, too_ , he wants to say.  _He begged me to save him_.

“I’m sorry,” he panted. Then he turned and left before Clint could see the tears in his eyes.

 

“Tony?”

It was Steve. Usually, if someone caught him rewatching Peter’s old baby-monitor videos he would shut them off immediately. Today, though, he just stayed where he was, watching the dizzying footage as Peter swung through the streets of Queens.

“Tony,” Steve called again. He was coming closer. Tony didn’t look at him.

This was his favorite video: Peter had saved a cat in a tree, then played frisbee with some kids in the park, and then sat and watched the sunset. It had been a good day. Tony remembered the voicemail the kid had left, his voice warm and satisfied with his work.

He felt Steve stand over his shoulder.

“It’s his birthday on Friday,” Tony whispered.

“Whose? What is this?” Steve asked.

“Peter’s.” Oh, gosh, how long has it been since he said the kid’s name out loud? It played on a constant loop in his head, but he never talked about him. These people, the Avengers, they weren’t… they didn’t know the kid. They could never understand.

He sniffed. “Or Spider-Man, as you know him. This is video from his suit.”

“Is he… did he die? In the Snap?” Steve’s voice was soft, but Tony flinched.

“He was with me, on Titan. He, uh, he stowed away.” Tony paused, listening to Peter cheer as the little boy he was playing with caught a particularly difficult throw. “He would have been seventeen.”

Steve put a hand on Tony’s shoulder.

“Rhodes told me what Clint said.”

“Yeah, that figures. He’s always been a gossiper,” Tony said, a fleeting smile turning up the corners of his mouth.

“I’m sorry he said that to you.”

Tony wasn’t sure why, but his eyes started burning with tears.

“I held him while he died, Steve,” he confessed. “And he felt  _all of it_. And I know he wasn’t my son, but… he was  _my kid_.” It was a nonsensical distinction, but it mattered to him. It mattered that someone knew how much Tony had lost.

“I’m sorry,” Steve breathed, guilt in every syllable. Tony understood—every death was on them, every grieving husband and mother and sibling was on them because they couldn’t stop Thanos. “Tony, all these months and… I had no idea.”

No one had said it before today, but Tony knew they all thought it at some point: how come Tony got to come home to his entire family? Why is he falling apart when he didn’t lose anything?

“I know,” Tony sighed. “That’s my fault.”

 

“His name was Peter,” Tony blurted out.

The entire team, gathered in the training room for drills, froze, staring at him.

Tony looked at Clint.

“He, uh… he was sixteen. He was Spider-Man, but he was so much more than that, too. He was a genius. And the greatest kid you’d ever meet,” Tony said, swiping at his eyes as tears spilled onto his cheeks. The room was utterly silent.

“He fought Thanos with me. And then… then he died in my arms.”

Clint was watching him, mouth parted a little in shock.

“You’re right, I don’t know what it’s like to lose everything, but… holding your son while he dies… I think I get that,” Tony finished, his voice breaking.

“Yeah,” Clint whispered. “Hell on earth, isn’t it?”

“Worse than dying,” he agreed.

Clint came over and clapped him on the shoulder. “Let’s get our boys back.”

Tony smiled, grim and determined. “Absolutely.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, I feel like I did Clint wrong in this, cause he's a jerk in the first section, but he's in mourning as much as the rest of them, and I feel like watching someone who you think lost way way less than you act like his world fell apart would be pretty frustrating and he finally just snapped. I love Clint.


End file.
